A Little More Than Admiration
by Ms. Shatter
Summary: Damian's got a crush on Dick. He wants to return the feelings, but isn't so sure if it's the right thing to do. M/M, Underage, SoloM
1. Chapter 1

_Clickclickclick._

The camera's shutter filled the silence.

_Click. Clickclick. Click._

Dick kept working at the desk, holding his forehead. He was so deep in thought, the noise didn't even slightly penetrate his brain until Damian was right in front of him tossing his camera on the desk.

"So are we going on patrol or _not_?"

"I think you should stay back, tonight."

"_What_?! Why?!"

He looked up from the important documents with a sigh, "I have to go to a night club. You won't be allowed in and I don't want to cause a scene by breaking in. You'll just be dead weight if-"

"What the hell? Dead _weight_?! Are you kidding me, Grayson? If I-"

"No! You're _not_ going!" Dick slammed his fist on the table and it rumbled, the bunker suddenly hushed again.

"But..."

The young boy suddenly looked very sad and uncertain. His face had totally fell, and he seemed almost a little speechless.

Dick couldn't stand to see him this way: he took his hand in his, squeezing it with his rough gloved hand. "Damian, this is nothing personal. You know that. That's why I didn't want this, I-I knew things like this would-"

"I don't want to hear it," he growled, "I just don't. It's not _fair_, and you know it."

The older man paused, now not sure what to say himself. When he finally found his words, Robin was already climbing into his lap, his hands pressing up against the broad chest in front of him, roaming the toned muscle and batsymbol.

"Dick, please..._let me come_..."

Double entendre. Great.

"Please _take_ me..."

Ugh, why did he have to get hard _now_? This was so wrong. So terribly _wrong_. Did Damian even know what he was _saying_?

"Damian..." Dick had never looked so unsure. There was a ten-year-old boy in his lap, clawing helplessly at him, begging him and making him hard. "Please...we've had this conversation before, we can't risk..."

Blue eyes met blue, staring into each other. This was so wrong. So wrong, but so right, like their bodies just meant to be _together_ like this...

"Damian, I can't. You're too _young_..." he hesitantly planted a kiss on the boy's forehead, "You listen to me when I tell you what Batman and Robin have to do."

"NO!" he screamed, "I won't have it like that! Why can't you just let me go?!"

"Damian, stop. Do you want Alfred to see you like this?"

"I don't give a fuck!" He got off his lap, storming up the stairs of the makeshift cave. Dick sighed, holding his head. The brat was too damn bipolar. Alfred, unbeknownst to him, was standing in the doorway and opened it right as Damian absconded.

"Master Dick," he almost jumped, looking up at the top of the stairs, "I am sorry, but I have overheard."

This time he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I don't know what to do, Alfred. What am I suppose to do? What's right for the mission, or what's right for how I _feel_?"

Alfred trotted down the stairs. "If I may, Master Dick. I believe the boy wants some sort of love and attention from you."

"Don't you think I give him enough?!"

"Perhaps in a more obvious form," he put his warm hand on the young man's shoulder, "Love is not a crime, Master Dick."

Batman was stunned._ Love_.

That word was repeated in his head all night long. What kind of love? Brotherly, or more? When did it start? How much love? 'In a more obvious form'...what was he to make out of that situation? And what about when he had gotten hard, had Damian noticed? _Does Alfred know something he doesn't?_

{-&-&-}

"Hey sleepyhead."

"I'm definitely _not_ sleepy. But maybe you are, since you went _alone _tonight."

Dick pulled a chair up to his desk and looked at the huge computer monitor in front of him, noticing how Damian quickly set it to sleep.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Tt. Really, Grayson? Look, just get out. This is _my_ room."

"I'm interested."

"This really isn't going to work," he was starting to raise his voice now, "I just want to be left alone and I don't want you near me!"

Dick sighed and was about to talk when he was interrupted by a voice shouting up the stairs: "Master Damian, could you come down for a moment? There is something that requires your assistance."

Damian looked from the computer to Dick, and to the computer again, and then at the door. He could read the hesitance in his eyes, practically feel it pulsating out of his entire being, but didn't say a word. Their eyes locked once more, and he gave a gentle smile, "Tt.", and the boy ran out of his room.

He grinned, grabbing a device out of his back pocket and plugging it into the hard drive. Immediately, the computer screen flashed on, and after typing a couple of codes and entering a couple of key combinations, the desktop screen came on, bypassing the entry password. He pulled out the device, slipping it back into his pocket and running the mouse over the taskbar. Damian made this too easy. It was almost like he _wanted _Dick to-

Upon expanding the Chrome application, he was viewing a paused video: "ethnic twink takes daddys dick". The still image showed a very skinny, dark-skinned boy pressed to the bed by a white man who's face wasn't visible. The fact that Damian had actually been looking at porn was freaking crazy, let alone the folder entitled "Dick" that was open. He was almost too scared to look in it, but he had to: little D would be back soon.

Maximizing the folder let the young man breathe, as it was only pictures of him. _Thank god_, he thought. Still, where did Damian get all of these pictures? A lot of them were scanned from newspapers, spanning from when he was Robin to one shot just two nights ago while he was on patrol as Batman. Scrolling through, they got weirder. Pictures of Damian himself with Dick blurred in the background. Hundreds of these and-oh lord, he finally understood. Mass realization hit Dick just as-

"_What are you doing_?!"

Dick spun around, horror still on his face.

"What were you doing, what-" Damian's entire face went red and for a second, Dick saw what he thought was the most angry expression he's ever seen on the boy. Trying to find words to explain himself, he stood up and walked towards him, but he was knocked to the floor, temporarily stunned. He was currently seeing five Damians, all blurred and fuzzy. "D-Da.."


	2. Chapter 2

"Get out, Grayson! _GET OUT_!"

The older man stumbled to his feet, still not being able to see exactly straight, leaving the room without saying anything else. Damian slammed his door shut, making the pictures on the walls through the hall shiver.

He ground his teeth, going over to his computer and looking at what was disturbed. The folder was open, as well as Chrome. Well, whatever. He didn't care. This didn't really change anything, other than make him feel very angry and maybe a little...sad?...that Dick didn't trust him or respect him enough to keep his privacy. Still grumbling, he plugged his earbuds back into the speakers and continued watching the video, arms crossed and tightly to his chest in almost a defensive position, though his body soon relaxed as his cock hardened through his sweatpants.

Imagining that the older man was Dick and that the younger boy was Damian was enough alone to make it rise.

The twink was on all fours, letting the older rub himself between his asscheeks, teasing him, making him whimper and _beg_ in pleasure. Damian liked how slow the video was, the amount of taunting turned him on even more than the actual sex, though he did want to just see the cock go inside.

And suddenly it did, making the teen moan in pleasure. But as soon as it started, it stopped, and he was back to fucking his asscheeks.

Damian's arms slowly uncrossed, his hands falling limp and awkwardly on his lap. Ten minutes of this teasing...oh and now the man was rubbing both of their cocks, pumping the brunette's and making him whimper and whine, just the way Damian would for _Dick_...

Or he would stay quiet, whatever Dick wanted. _Anything Dick wanted_.

There was a pause and he licked his lips, hoping that the man would finally go in the virgin ass, but instead it was right back to the teasing. Damian took the opportunity to get up and slip off his sweatpants, hurrying once he saw the man was finally putting on a condom, kicking the pants and his briefs to the side, sitting back down in his chair, spreading his legs wide and lazily pumping his small member.

The man in the video was still going agonizingly slow, probably because the twink was groaning in pain and grasping onto him, having his virgin ass violated for the first time. But Damian liked that, because it was like what _his _first time with Dick would be like. Of course, he'd be a little gentler than the man in the video (who didn't really seem to care about the well-being of the boy much), but it was still a similar effect.

Soon enough, the teen started enjoying the violation, gasping and moaning in unison with the older man, starting to beg for more, faster, harder. This is when Damian really got going, pumping his cock hastily as he opened the folder up again, opening a picture of Dick (that was originally with Tim, but he had cropped it out). It was his by far best, clearest, picture of him. And he was smiling, his bright eyes staring straight into the camera almost like he _knew _Damian had been taking the picture.

Using just the sounds from the video in combination with the picture, he started jerking off with rigor. "_Nek_..." he whispered under his breath, already reaching his point. He stared into the blue eyes of the picture, staring, as deep as he could, wishing, praying that someday Dick would be there with him, maybe helping him do this or even_ fucking _him...taking his _virginity_.

The wet, _slapping_ noises and the moans of both guys got Damian to finish all over his hand and keyboard. The only sound he himself ever made was a small grunt at the time of orgasm: he knew there were probably tons of bugs in his room (Drake's doing, no doubt). Finally feeling sleepy, he cleaned up and pulled off his shirt, leaving it by the rest of his clothes, crawling into his bed under the covers and falling asleep soon after.

{-&-&-}

Upon waking up, Damian started his typical morning work out in his bedroom. For the next hour, he debated the idea of eating breakfast or avoiding Dick. In the end, he decided he'd have to eat breakfast, and that there was just no way around meeting up with him anyway. So he opened his closet, grabbed some skinny sweats from Hollister, striped briefs, and a branded hoodie, lazily getting dressed and padded down the hallway into the kitchen/dining room area of the penthouse.

He found Dick helping Alfred cook breakfast, looking _adorable_ as ever in a plaid button-up and khaki shorts. Damian scoffed, immediately turning around, heading back down the hall to his bedroom. He didn't think he could do this, after all.

"Little D! Where're you goin'?" Dick strode after him, putting a hand on his shoulder. The boy froze, his face feeling a little hotter. "Tt. Back to my room. I'm not hungry."

"You know you gotta eat, Dami. C'mon, let's let Alfie finish up and go watch some T.V."

"I'm _not_ hungry, and I _don't_ want to watch T.V."

Dick forcefully, yet somehow gently, turned Damian around to face him, a soft smile still on his face, "This is an order from Batman, alright? You have to eat breakfast."

Damian scrunched up his face in disgust, hoping it countered the pink blush on his cheeks, and hit Dick's hand away, walking past him and into the living room.

The older man smiled and followed him, winking at Alfred.

Alfred smiled, shaking his head.

"So, how about the mall today?"

"You want to take me _shopping_? Don't you have anything better to do, Grayson?"

"You're good at acting," he said, and for a moment Damian froze, in utter fear, "but I know you want," he swallowed hard, "new jeans."

He exhaled heavily in relief.

Dick just smiled, his brows a little furrowed.

"I _swear_ you have something better to do."

"Nope, got things all cleared up yesterday."

"_Without_ me." he added.

Dick shook his head, knowing there was no way to win, nonchalantly wrapping his arm around the small set of shoulders as Alfred brought in two huge trays of food.

{-&-&-}

"You sure like to take that camera _everywhere_, huh, Little D?"

"Shut up."

"No, it's _good _that you're into photography. I don't have the skill for that kind of thing. I don't think Bruce does either. Or Tim. Maybe Alfred..."

"Tt."

"Can I see some of your pictures?" he suggested kindly, as they walked through the mall entrance.

"_NO_!"

He chuckled, holding up his hands in defeat, "Okay, okay."

Damian snarled in reply.

"At least there aren't many people here on Tuesday morning," he said, trying to make friendly conversation, "it's nice."

"Tt."

Dick just smiled, continuing to walk. He was used to the one-sided conversations, but last night kept harping him. He knew that Damian took pictures of him, but didn't know there were so many thousands of them. And the more he thought about the video he had been watching, the more he realized it was like he and Damian...no. It couldn't be. That was just a coincidence. Perhaps Damian was interested in the "twink", not the "daddy". He really needed someone other than Alfred to talk this through with, someone he _trusts_, someone like-

"_Drake_!" Damian scowled, his lip curling in an irritated, yet irritating, way.

Tim was walking towards them, a smug smile on his face. "Hey, Dick!" he paused, looking down at Damian, adding, "hey, _monster_."

"Tt. I'm leaving." Damian stomped off to the store across from the sitting area where Tim had been, going inside and acting like he was actually interested in the putrid candles. Instead, he hid behind some shelves and lifted his camera, switching it on and zooming in, immediately starting to snap some pictures of Dick from a distance, pushing off the worker when she asked if he needed anything.

"What're you doin' here?" Dick smiled, giving him a nice hug and a pat on the back.

"Honestly, I'm looking for a present for Tam. It's sort of embarrassing, but..."

"Heh. Your _two-month_ is coming up, eh? You excited?"

"I dunno..."

"It'll work itself out. But hey, I've got something I wanted to _talk_ to you about..."

"Yeah?"

"It's about _Damian_." he lowered his voice considerably, keeping his eye on the candle store. He could clearly see Damian using his camera, but when he looked right into the lens, the boy quickly changed his angle, acting as if he was taking a picture of a vanilla wax instead.

"Mm. I can already tell this isn't going to be good..." he crossed his arms, looking slightly irked.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hmm. That's pretty weird, it's times like these when I wish _Bruce_ was around."

"Why?" Dick asked, honestly confused.

"Well, it obviously has something to do with _Ra's al Ghul_, doesn't it." His tone was more of a statement than a question.

The older man was shocked. Tim thought Damian was stalking him-no, it wasn't stalking, it was just a boy with a childhood _crush_-for villainous purposes?! No way. Ugh, Tim was being typical _Bruce_ again, never wanting to trust anyone with anything...

"I really don't think that's the case, Tim."

Damian eventually got bored of the same shot and angle and wandered back to them, turning his camera off. There seemed to be tension between the two, and it didn't get better when he returned.

"Well, I should get going." Tim said, almost bitterly, turning his back to them before anyone could reply.

"Bye..." Dick whimpered, but not until Tim was already a few feet away.

"Looks like _someone's_ on their _period_." grumbled Damian, grabbing Dick's hand and pulling him from the mall entrance down to the first area of shops.

Dick smiled shyly, letting Damian lead him to whichever shop he wanted. It wasn't every day that the boy was this tame, and it was nice. He'd just forget about what his younger brother had mentioned, for now, and just try to have a good time. But there was something about the way Damian held his hand...

Damian's was sweaty, which meant he was nervous. It was tight and needy, and when Dick had pulled away to point at a provocative shirt, Damian made a small growl noise and snatched it back in less than a second. Dick just looked down, a little shocked, and tried to smile, as there was a light pink blush across the boy's tan cheeks and his blue eyes darting his gaze.

And it wasn't like he was blatantly trying to make moves on Dick, or saying anything sexual of the sort. He was still his usual, grumpy self, but something was just _different_ about him lately.

It was cute that he had a little crush on Dick, but of course, nothing could ever become of it..but that's not what Damian thought, nor _expected_. And Dick was starting to question it himself. _What harm could it do_, he asked himself. But then he answered: _a lot, we're Batman and Robin, not just some random schmucks. But we've kept secrets before, and Damian's-well, I'm not sure, but..._

"Buy me ice cream."

"Ice cream?" Dick was shook out of his pondering and looked down at the younger boy. "Okay...then go to Holli?"

"Tt. Sure." Damian started pulling him towards the food court.

"It's ten in the morning." Dick protested kindly.

"I don't care." He kept pulling. And there was just _something_ about his _possessive grip_ that Dick enjoyed.

{-&-&-}

"I have to go out to a dinner...Alfred's coming with me. Unfortunately, I-"

Tim came into the living room. Damian scowled. "You're having him _BABYSIT _me?! Why can't I stay home alone?!"

Dick cleared his throat and turned away, knowing that if he stayed looking into the boy's helpless, wide blue eyes that he would succumb. "You're still proving your trust, Damian."

"I'm not-I'm...I can't...I can't even _believe_ what you're _SAYING_! I thought we were _PARTNERS_!"

Alfred helped the older man put on his coat as he replied, his own voice trembling a little in pure sadness: it hurt him as much to say this as it hurt Damian, "There have always been things that Robin couldn't do. This is one of them." He zipped up his coat and turned to him to look at the boy one more time. Damian was standing with his arms crossed very tight across his chest, staring at the floor, his bare toes curling around the fur carpet. He looked up when there was a nice, warm hand on his shoulder. "Be good for me." And he left, Alfred following close behind. Tim flopped on the couch, turning on the T.V.

"I _hate_ you, Drake."

"Trust me: the feeling's _mutual_." Tim closed his eyes, pulling a piece of his long, black bang behind his ear, trying to keep his patience.

"Why don't you just go _die_?"

It didn't take long for the teen to snap, "Look, _Dick _is the one who asked me to _babysit_ you! You really think I want to be here, babysitting a spoiled, assassin _brat_ rather than spending time with my _girlfriend_? I'm here for _him_! If you can't even respect his wishes, then you don't deserve to be...be in the _position_ that you are!"

"Tt. You're just jealous. You want to be Robin. You wish you were his real son. You wish Grayson paid-"

He took a huge, deep breath. "I'm not going to get into this conversation, Damian. Go to your room or something."

Damian stared at the screen as channels were being scrolled through painfully slow. He snatched the remote out of Tim's hands, putting it on TNT. Reluctantly, he sat next to his older brother.

The two sat in silence for about 45 minutes, until it was a particularly long commercial break and Tim noted, "This is literally one of the worst channels in history."

The boy through the remote at his stomach and it landed with a painfully loud slap and a grunt from Tim as Damian stormed to his room. He opened up a porntube and started scrolling casually through the newest videos to take his mind off the situation.

So this was the second night in a row that Damian wasn't allowed to go do something, not to mention he was being treated like an absolute child. What did this mean? He thought hard, thinking back to the porn incident from last night. Was there a possibility that Dick hadn't opened the video, and had only seen the pictures? Or had he seen the video and not the pictures? Or, neither? Or, both...But Dick wasn't _acting_ weird at all. Plus he had acted all curious about the photos Damian was taking, so...so, okay, that means he didn't see the photos. Which leaves the porn or neither. Okay, he could live with that. _Anything_ other than the pictures...

"Dads and Twinks"...that one should do. He opened it, paused it, minimized it, and opened up his latest chess game and started playing, holding his cheek in his hand idly, his eyes narrow.

"Damian." Tim came in without even knocking, and that pissed him off, but thank God he wasn't jacking or even had the video up..."Look, I'm sorry." Tim came in, closing the door behind him. "I want things between us to get better. We are _brothers_, after all..."

"Tt. You're _not _my brother," he scowled, "nor do I want you to be."

"It upsets me to see Dick upset!" shouted the older teen, "And I know it would upset _Bruce_, too! And I...don't want that." His rage turned into a quiet mumble.

"You sure talk about my _dad_ a lot."

Suddenly, Tim was holding Damian by the shirt collar two feet up in the air, baring his teeth. "It's _none_ of your business."

"Oh, looks like I struck a _nerve_." Damian's face didn't change at all, "You think I haven't figured out what you guys _were_?"

"You just don't stop _pushing_ it, do you?!" He dropped him, afraid of what he'd do if he held him in that position any longer. He couldn't stoop to his level.

"I know the whole girlfriend thing is a sham."

"It's _not a sham_. Now shut up before I _kill_ you."

The boy burst out in laughter, "You're hilarious, Drake! How _hypocritical _can you be? And besides, my _grandfather _told me something or other about a little fling he had with-"

"_SHUT UP_!" The teen thrust himself at the boy, pinning him to the ground and raising his fist above his face.

"Hmmm," he still seemed so very calm in this situation, his blue eyes calculating and sparkling with glee, "so you've slept with my _grandpa_, _Father_...now you must want to with _me_, right? Is this your way of _courtship_?"

The fury on Tim's face had no name. It was utter hatred, utter anger, utter fear, not to mention red as Hell itself.

"Don't worry, I won't tell Tam. Or anyone, in fact. As long as you give me some _information_."

He closed his eyes, swallowing hard before punching the boy in the stomach, causing him to see stars. He knew it didn't really hurt him, but it was enough time to grab that damned camera of his. He pulled up off of him and walked to the door, holding it in front of him so Damian couldn't see it. It took a couple of seconds of silence, but he pressed on, because that's what he liked to _do_, "Who was the better fucker? The five-hundred-something-year-old or your _adoptive father_?"

"Damian, aren't you the one who everyone always stands up for because you've made '_mistakes_'? Isn't anyone _else_ allowed to make them?"

"Go ahead, act all high and mighty, but he told me what you were like. Begging him to fuck you _senseless_, begging him to call you his little _whore_."

Tim didn't reply and walked out, closing the door gently behind him. He went to the foyer, picked up his bag, and left.

And Damian got his way: he was alone at last. He started up the porn, turned up his speakers and opened up his "Dick" folder. He started a fullscreen slideshow, then eagerly started stripping, his eyes glued to the screen as he did.

Only left in his boxers, he relished the moaning already coming from the video, and laid down on his bed with his legs up in the air, head turned and facing his monitor, fingers idly trailing circles around his tight asshole through the thin fabric. He imagined it was Dick carefully caressing him like this-he moved his hand up to his crotch and started to rub back and forth-caring for him and loving him and everything that Damian _needed _from him...giving it to him, just like he always knew he could.

And so the masturbation started, and ended with the boy writhing around his bed, cock in hand, tears in his eyes as he moaned along with the "twinks" in the video: "Diiick!", shooting his load all over his hand and bedsheets.

But he was still horny: something about what had just happened moments ago made him continue to want more, even after already spending himself.

Drake.

Something about that annoying asshole made his cock twitch in humiliating arousal. While Dick topped Damian in his fantasies, he would most definitely top Drake.

He would show him who's boss. Who's the real _Wayne_. And if he had let his grandpa and his father fuck him crazy, he'd let him do it, too. Or rather, Damian would force him (if necessary) to.

His hand met his cock once more, idely pumping it back to hardness, his eyes now closed, imagining a scene play out from behind them.

Drake would be all tied up, completely naked, his hands above his head, his ankles up in the air, taken ass already begging for cock. 'Please, _please_, Master Damian, let me have your dick. Please, I need it. I need your _ten-year-old dick _so bad.'

"Mm..yeah..." he mumbled, pumping faster and biting his lip. That was so hot: topping an eighteen year old. Fuck, that was...yeah, that was really _sensual_. And then after he made him whimper and whine and come close to an orgasm, then that's when he'd fuck him senseless. 'You feel that, Drake? You feel my sexy, younger penis being _sucked in_ by your abused assh-'

And god dammit, that was the front door opening. Had it already been so long?


	4. Chapter 4

"You...you stole his _camera_?"

"Hey, he gave me no choice."

Dick put his hand cautiously on the expensive camera, looking into Tim's mischievous blue eyes. "I don't think it's our right to look at it without his permission, Tim."

The younger teen's face contorted with confusion and frustration. "Why not? The little snot has done _plenty_ to deserve this!"

He had to stay calm. It was his job as elder brother. It was hard, though, when someone he loved so much was being vicious about someone else he loved, too. "Tim, correct me if I'm wrong, but I hear you're the one who nearly choked him twice, not to mention punching him in the stomach. Which, though generally harmless, put a damper on him during patrol."

"I think something _else_ put a 'damper' on him during patrol, and I'm going to find out what!" He pressed the power button on the camera, pressing the review button, ready to go through the thumbnails.

"Tim!" Dick snatched the camera, turning it back off and holding it out of reach. "This isn't _right_. This won't _fix_ things. Besides, I already have an idea of what's on there."

"He's _selling you out _to Ra's al Ghul, Dick! He's_ tricking _you, he's bewitching you and acting all innocent, but really he-"

The older licked his lips and closed his eyes, trying to keep his composure. Once more, he started with, "Tim," the only way that seemed to shut him up and get him to listen, "even after I found out what you _did_, I didn't judge you. In fact, I didn't think for a _second_ that you betrayed us."

"You_ told _him, didn't you?!"

"Ra's told him. But-"

"UGH!" He slammed his fist against the wall, clenching his teeth and glaring up at his big brother. "I know I've made mistakes, but-"

"Please! Don't be so upset, I...I just was saying, even after that, I still trusted you. Just because you...I mean...even...well, I can't speak for how you _felt_, but..."

"I was wrong. I was _so_ wrong."

"But you admitted...to _loving_ him, right? For a short time?" Dick cleared his throat. This whole conversation was...pretty awkward for both parties.

"I mean, I did, but...but, he was just _using_ me. And maybe he's just using Damian,_ too_, but that doesn't _change_ what his motives really-"

"My point is that you were in a very similar position and _no one_ judged you."

He was silent for once, trying to take this all in. He felt his chin wobble just a little and he wondered if he was going to cry, and then he wondered _why _he'd be crying, but that didn't matter, and-

And Dick hugged him. "You're taking your anger out on him, I think."

Tim closed his eyes, squeezing back tightly. He missed Bruce's arms. He missed his touch, his hold, his gaze..._everything_ about him. He missed him so much. And here Dick was, with this _amazing_ relationship with Damian, and it was about to go _farther_, and he didn't _want_ it to go farther because he was stuck in this horrible_ fake _relationship and it just...

"Tt. What is it in here, a _lovefest_?"

Tim's eyes opened slowly, his thoughts being disturbed by the brat's voice. And when he turned around and looked at him, into his blue eyes, he _saw _Bruce, and maybe a little of Ra's al Ghul, too, both men that he had _cared_ for so much, and...and maybe Damian wasn't that all _bad_, either.

"Drake, you're going to _die_ for taking my camera. Feel lucky that I didn't notice it was _gone_ until _now._"

Nope. He was still bad as ever.

"We didn't look at it, Damian. I was just going to return it to you." He picked up the camera and lofted it to the boy, who's cheeks were all pink. Grumbling, he returned back to his room.

"Look, Tim. I know you're upset about Bruce. But I think it's really good that you're _moving on _and trying things out with Tam-"

"DICK!" His eyes were desperate and wide, his lips dry and his throat and chest tightening. "I need Bruce! I need him!"

"Shhhh..." Dick whimpered, putting an arm around his little brother once more, trying to calm him down. He didn't want to be in this position. He didn't want to have to say these things to Tim, and he didn't want to tell Tim that he thinks Bruce will never return, and he didn't want to question Tam's relationship with him, he just wanted his _brother_ to be happy...

"I need _someone_, Dick." he sobbed.

"That's how _Damian _feels. You're more _a like_ than you think."

"But he likes _you_ and-"

"Well maybe I like him, _too_, Tim." He pulled away, sitting down on the couch and running a hand through his hair, taking another deep breath.

"Y-you can't!" he sputtered, staring at him, wide-eyed.

"I...god, I know." Holding his head in his hands, he continued in a muffled voice, "It's wrong. He's _too young_. It's terrible of me. But I really...I really just...you know how we were at the mall? I want...I want to be doing things like that all the time. Like, going on _dates_. It's nothing like I've ever...had before. Not with Kori, or Babs, or _anyone_...we're...connected, somehow. You know how it is...being Batman and Robin, and then being in a relationship...I mean, that's why you were so _mad_ when Damian came."

"It's true..." he sat next to Dick, "...yeah, I knew I'd lose my position as Robin when he came. But the way everything..._happened_...it seems meant to be, you know? But when me and Bruce were together...nothing could stop us."

"I know the feeling." Dick sighed. "Except, I don't want him to _go_ on any missions anymore because I don't want him to get _hurt_. I was just starting to feel...so confident of my decisions. I know I'll never be _him_, but...well, now...everything's going blurry again. I'm second-guessing myself so I can _protect _him."

{-&-&-}

"My mouth has been _killing _me."

"Your mouth?"

"Yeah..." Tim rubbed his cheek, grimacing.

"Open up!"

"Why?"

"Just do it. Real wide."

The teen complied, opening his mouth wide and looking at Dick oddly, who peered into his mouth. "Mmhmm. Just as I thought."

"Well, _what_?"

"You're growing your _wisdom teeth_, Timmy!"

"Oh...yeah. Those. I forgot about those."

"I didn't grow mine until I was in my early twenties, but they're supposed to start coming in around sixteen, usually, I think."

"What a pain in the ass..." he muttered, cupping his cheek again. "They're really killing me."

"There's nothing you can do other than take Tylenol."

Tim sighed, starting to run his fingers through his soft black bangs as Damian entered the room. Their eyes met and Damian blushed and darted his gaze. For some reason, Tim found himself clearing his throat and looking away, his own aching cheeks feeling a little hot, too, and maybe not just because of the teeth...

"I want dinner. And I don't want him over for it."

"Why are you coming to us? Go ask Alfred." Tim murmured, tucking the hair behind his ear. Dick stared at him, taking in the habitual routine that seemed to happen when Tim talked to Damian, then looked to the younger.

"Tt. _You_ can do that, Drake, since you invited _yourself_ over."

Dick did the math quickly in his head. 24-10: 14. 18-10: 8. And then he thought about it, and didn't know why he jumped to those particular subtraction problems, but something about the results made him shift uneasily in his seat. _Fourteen_ versus _eight_. Maybe he wasn't good enough. Maybe someone else was better...

Alfred came into the room. "I heard my name, sirs?"

_Please stop thinking about this, Dick_, he thought to himself.

"Make dinner, Pennyworth." He plopped in between the two older brothers, snatching the remote and browsing the channels.

"Yes, Master Damian."

"Oh god, not _TNT_ again."

"I wasn't even going to put that on..."

"Dami and I like to watch Lifetime on the weekends."

"WHAT!? That is...that's totally a lie!" Damian's face was red once more (it _always_ gave him away, and that made Dick smile and forget about his worries) and Tim started laughing his ass off.

{-&-&-}

Dick's arms just couldn't let go of him. He felt so nice, so toned, so small, but able (oh, _so_ able)..."Damian..." he whispered against his short black hair, inhaling the scent of it while he had the chance.

"Tt." The boy pushed him a way, looking right up into his eyes. "Don't touch me like that ever again. Now go away. I'm trying to rest."

"I just don't want you to get _hurt_," Dick pleaded, "and I...I do trust you."

"No you don't." he scowled, hitting his hand away again and then laying on his side, his back to Batman. "If you did, you...you wouldn't have gotten Drake to steal my camera."

"W-wha? D-damian...I...I didn't ask him to do that! He did that on his own and..."

"You saw the pictures."

He bit his lip, quickly trying to figure out if it was best to tell the truth or brush it under the rug. "What pictures?" He couldn't let him know...not yet, anyway.

Damian was silent and Dick took that as a 'Okay, I believe that you didn't see them'. Hesitantly, he kissed the back of his head and left the room.

He laid in his bed for a little while longer then grabbed his camera, circulating through the pictures of Dick he had taken at the mall the other day.

In the end, all of the Robins have had some kind of relationship with Batman. That being said, the only one that had actually become more than a fling was with Tim. At first, Dick had been jealous. _He_ had been with Bruce _first_, after all, and one of the reasons he initially became Nightwing was to try to get away from the feelings he had. Though it proved pointless. When he had found out about their blossoming relationship, he had been bitter but hid it well, though he was sure Bruce could practically taste his jealousy from across a dense party on a Saturday night, as Tim stood by his side, while he was left to the punch bowl.

And though he still had feelings for Bruce, his absence had established a hole in Dick's heart, and Damian had been quick to fill it.

But was that all Damian was? A quick fix? Just a _stand-in_ for Bruce? Or maybe just someone to _fuck_?

No. _Hell _no. That wasn't what he was at _all_. He was a boy_: just_ a boy. There would be _no_ fucking.

{-&-&-}

He was working on the balance beam, his brow furrowed like it always was while training. There was something different about this training session, though. 1) He was in boxers (for experimental purposes _only_). 2) There were camera flashes and clicks every other ten seconds.

Yep, Damian had taken the bait. Now to catch him in the act:

Dick did a flip off the balance beam, landing with a cartwheel and then somersault, looking right into Damian's sparkling blue eyes across the gym floor. "What are you doing here?"


	5. Chapter 5

"N-Nothing!" He hid the camera behind his back. "Seriously, I was just...coming down here to see if we were going on patrol tonight."

Dick couldn't help but smile at how nervous the usually stoic boy was. "Yeah. We are."

"Good...'cause it's been awhile."

"I know. You're off probation."

"I never knew I was on it," He tried to sneer it, but his face looked a little worried, ruining the effect.

Dick put a hand on his small shoulder. "It's okay. Go get ready." And he watched as his blue eyes lingered on his pale abs for much too long, before he slunk off to the dressing rooms, carefully hiding his camera in front of him as he turned around.

So Damian had one hundred or so new pictures of Dick working out in his boxers, which he was probably going to use for dirty purposes. But there was just something about what had been done...to be honest, the man didn't _mind_ putting on a show for him. In fact, it was kind of..._amusing_. _Not_ arousing. _Definitely_ not _arousing_.

{-&-&-}

"It's quiet tonight."

"Hm."

"Weird, huh?"

"Tt."

"Gives us time to talk a little."

Damian didn't reply, but he shifted a little, wavering back and forth on his heels and he sat crouched on the building's railing.

"What exactly did you and Tim fight about the other day?"

"I mentioned his relationship with Grandfather, and he went ballistic. Not my fault."

"You pushed him on purpose, though."

"So? He asked for it."

Dick whimpered, scratching the back of his head through the cowl (which had absolutely no remedy whatsoever). "Please, try to get along with him. He's doing his best. Losing Bruce has hit him hard. It's been hard for _all_ of us. I'd think if anyone would, _you'd_ understand that."

Damian stared out at Gotham, his lips drawn thin, face expressionless. He thought really hard for a minute, and Dick watched him as he did, waiting for him to respond, curious as to what he was going to say. He wasn't prepared for what came out: "I don't mind it," he paused, licking his lips, "I don't mind it because...it let us be partners."

He didn't know how to really address this situation at all. What could he say? _How_ could he say it? But before he _could_ reply, Damian had grappled to another rooftop.

{-&-&-}

A part of Dick really wanted to tell Tim what happened. What happened to the days where they told each other _everything_? But he couldn't. It just wasn't right.

"You have no idea what I'm dealing with," Tim mumbled, running a hand through his hair as he threw a carton of ice cream at Dick, who was sitting crosslegged on the couch in front of the T.V. Damian and Alfred were both asleep, it was just them.

"Anything you need help with?"

"No, it's just...the stress of everything. _Girls_."

"Tam?"

"_Lynx_."

Dick smiled, opening up the carton and shoving his spoon into the banana-fudge. "You're just getting _around_, aren't you?"

"But I don't _try_!"

"It's okay. I _get_ it. Trust me. I was in that position once, _too_, you know." he laughed, with a wink. Tim just rolled his eyes, smiling.

"But it's just...Tam...when we have sex...it's just not...well..._good_. I mean, it _is_, but...not _great_."

"I know the _press_ has put a lot of pressure on you two, but you don't have to _please_ anyone but yourself."

Tim hung his head, closing his eyes. "I just...I love her. As a _friend_."

"Understandable," Dick rubbed his back soothingly, "very understandable, Tim."

"And then there's _Conner_..."

"He still cares about you. You _know_ that."

"Yeah, but...the Titans and I aren't..."

"You know they'll always welcome you with open arms, Tim. Come on. Lighten up. Let's watch a marathon." The truth was, Dick just didn't want this conversation to somehow shift to Damian.

"How was patrol?"

_Great_. He was hoping he wouldn't ask...

"He said something, Tim," Dick's face went solemn and he stared blankly at the T.V. screen, "and...and when he did, my heart..._fluttered_. I had knots in my stomach, and I _liked_ it." Tim was quiet, putting a spoonful of chocolate into his mouth. Dick continued, "I can't describe it. It's not pride, and it's more than happiness...I don't know."

"What did he say," he asked, quietly, barely audible.

"He told me that...that he didn't mind Bruce's..._abscence_...because it allowed _us_ to work together."

It was quiet again, and Dick looked over at Tim, who was clutching on to his ice cream carton so tight, it was starting to crush. "That..._brat_..." he muttered.

"Tim, please...don't be mad at him. He's so young, he-"

"Are you so _selfish_?!" He put the carton on the coffee table and stood up, face full of rage, "You are just throwing him away! Like he never mattered, like he never _did _anything for you! Like he didn't make you into who you_ are_! You're trying to move on like he's _dead_! I know he's out there,_ he's alive somewhere_, and I can't believe you-of _all_ people-would give up on him! And then you go running across rooftops with his_ son _as if it's...as if it's some kind of_ compensation_! As if it _makes up _for him!"

"Tim. Calm down. Come on," he stood up, putting a hand on his shoulder, trying to coax him back down on to the couch. It worked, he loved his big brother's touch, but, "_I_ was his favorite, once, you know."

"You don't have to say it like_ that_," Tim frowned, holding his face in his hands.

"I was. We did everything together..." He looked out the window and thought about things, but knew if he thought too hard, it would hurt: he'd been trying to push all of those memories to the back of his head.

"I know..."

"Even when I...when I left, and when he got Jason...nothing changed. But then you came. You came, and _everything_ changed. _You_ made him _smile_ when I hadn't seen one in _years_."

"It's not _my_ fault, Dick! You can't just go _blaming _me!"

He turned back to him, such a sad look on his face. "I'm just...saying. How things were. And now that you're on your own, I feel like perhaps you are a bit _jealous_ of Damian and I's relationship. And maybe, things were supposed to be like this. Maybe I lost Bruce to you because Damian was the one who was meant for me."

"I am _not_!" he shouted, a little too fast to even have comprehend what Dick said. "I am not, and _nothing_ was meant to be: his death-no, his _disappearance_-will _NOT_ be in vain!"

"You're going to wake them up."

"I don't care." He walked over to the closet, putting on his shoes. "_Goodbye_."

He sighed, running through the channels.

_What would Bruce do?_

Bruce would put a stop to all this nonsense. He'd fix his relationship that he's maintained for so many years, and tell the newcomer, in a firm but kind way, that things just wouldn't work.

Dick had been telling himself all night that he'd _go_ for it, that he'd _confront_ Damian. He was going to tell him that they couldn't be together, that he was too young and he himself was too old for him anyway, but that he still _loved _him to death, like a _brother_ and a _mentor_. And he had prepared himself for an angry lash out, silence, _or _getting laughed at. He was all ready, he was _mentally prepared _for this.

Damian suddenly padded into the living room, scratching his belly idly, his bare feet pitter-pattering on the wood floor in such a cute, soft way: his tan, toned, young abs revealed as he reached under his shirt, face a little puffy and one cheek red, probably because he had been laying on it. "What was all the yelling," he asked, voice cracking from lack of use.

Oh my god, that was too_ adorable_. He couldn't do this. "Just...Tim. I'm sorry that we woke you."

The boy sat next to him, pulling his knees to his chest and leaning on Dick's shoulder. And Dick sat silently, forgetting all what he was planning on saying. "I'm sorry...about what I said tonight," he muttered. And Dick could tell that he had rehearsed it a million times or so. "It's not right...to talk about Father that way. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize for anything, Damian. I understand more than you know." He wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close and kissing the top of his head. He was sure he would have protested, but he didn't. So he continued, "Sometimes I felt like becoming what I am gave my parents' death a _meaning_. I thought, 'maybe this was all meant to be, because everything is somehow working out so well'. I reasoned their deaths. Because that's what you _have _to do."

"I don't think he's really dead."

Dick kissed his head again, holding his forehead with his other hand, letting it ruffle the hair a little bit. "I know. But _Damian_?"

"Tt..." He stared blankly ahead at the T.V., because he knew if he looked at Dick, he'd do something stupid.

"Now I'm starting to think that the reason I met Bruce was so I could meet _you_." This wasn't how things were supposed to go. He was supposed to tell Damian _no_, tell him that they couldn't _do_ this, but instead he's confessing his feelings, doing the exact _opposite_...

Damian swallowed hard, his heart throbbing uncomfortably loud in his ears, unsure of how to respond. So he didn't, and pretended to fall asleep on his shoulder. And even if it was obvious that he was faking, at least he didn't have to reply. Not to mention that Dick's caressing was all worth the embarrassment.

It wasn't like the others. It really _wasn't_. He had stayed far away from Jason, and Tim was a whole different story. With Tim, he felt like a _brother._ They were best _friends_. He _mentored_ him. _Trained _him. They hung out _all the time_. But that whole time, after all they went through, he still felt like _just_ a big brother. Even after an entire year of telling himself, _promising _himself, that he'd treat Damian only has a protege, only as a _brother_...well, he had _failed_ at that.

{-&-&-}

"This _isn't _your house," Damian spat, pointing a finger at Tim as he walked into the room, glaring up at him.

"Look, Bat-_Brat_, I came to _apologize_. And it's just as much your house as it is _mine_."

Damian looked directly at Dick. "I thought you would have...not let him come back. After what he did."

He bit his lip, hating the feeling of being caught between his two little brothers. Looking at Tim, whose eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was pressed into a thin line much like Bruce would do, to Damian, who had a look of utter dismay on his face. There was no competition.

"Tim, I'm sorry. This just isn't the time to talk. Call me, okay?"

"_Ugh_. I can't_ believe _you, Dick. Letting him_ manipulate _you like this."

"I'm not doing anything of the sort!" Damian protested.

"_Shut up_."

"Guys!" Dick moved between them, holding up his hands, because it looked like Tim was about to jump Damian. Again. "_Please_, stop."

"_Gladly_. Oh, and I'm _not _sorry." Tim walked out, for what seemed like the hundredth time that week.

Dick looked down at Damian, whose face was now fallen. "Why...does he_ hate _me so much?"

He felt his heart clench and his eyes itched, threatening to release tears. "Oh, Damian..." he pulled him close, holding his head to his chest, "...he _doesn't_. He doesn't mean it."

"Yes, he _does_. He's just like _Father_...he doesn't _trust _me. He doesn't _want_ me here."

"That's _not_ true," he said assertively, pulling away and holding on to Damian's shoulders, looking down into the teary blue eyes, "Bruce would be_ so _proud of you right now," he wiped a falling tear off the tan cheek, "_I'm_ proud of you."

His mouth trembled and he pushed Dick away, running back to his room.

Dick fell back on to the couch, wondering how all of this could have gotten so messed up, so fast.

And he felt just so alone, and wondered if perhaps he should talk to Alfred, because maybe he could help. And he'd definitely be less judgmental than Tim...

Yeah, that was a thought. He'd talk to Alfred.

He got up, walking through the hall past the bedrooms to get to the Batcave. But then he noticed that Damian's door was open. Curiously, he peeked inside.

_What a mistake that was._

Damian was on all fours-well, rather, on three of his limbs, anyway-as he was using his right hand to reach underneath his belly and to his cock, working it as best he could with one hand, as he let out cautious little moan after another. His eyes were fixed on his computer, staring right at it, almost in an animalistic way: unblinking. He watched as the slideshow moved from picture to picture of Dick. "_Grayson_," he mumbled.

Dick was fixated on Damian, almost as much as he was on the screen. He couldn't believe what he was was witnessing, or that he hadn't realized that he had left his door open the slightest bit.

Of _course_ he had noticed...how _couldn't _have he noticed: he was trained by _ninja_ assassins. So this was...well, _and it was hard for Dick to even think like this_, but it could be some sort of _thank you_ for the show _he_ had provided earlier. Still, his hadn't been...so blatantly _sexual_. And hadn't Damian just been crying _minutes_ ago?

His breath was starting to get sharper, a couple hisses escaping his mouth now and then, and Dick hadn't expected him to be so vocal while doing something like this. It's almost like he knew...

He pulled his cock hard, then felt at the tip, at the slit on it, and then with a gasp, pulled away, deciding that was too much. Instead, he flopped down on his back, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and sucking on them, eyes still fixated on the screen. No words could describe how much he wanted-_needed_-Dick, especially right now.

If only his trap would work, if only Dick would hear him, and come in, and _assist_ him...

"_Grrraysonn_~" he moaned, pushing two of his small fingers in to his willing ass, eyes finally closing, hoping that he was loud enough. It felt great, but not as great as his_ member _would have felt. If he were to come in, right now...

Dick would sit on his bed and wrap his arm around his shoulders, holding him close. They'd lean up against the headboard, and he would caress the top of his arm as his other hand worked at his cock. He'd whisper things like, "You're such a good boy" and "I'm proud of you" and "I love you".

His cock _twitched_ at that thought.

And then he'd lay Damian down, kissing him passionately as he did, and insert two of his own fingers in. And they would be so much bigger, so much more experienced than his own...they'd know what they were doing, know just how to work him, know just how to get to his prostate.

The real Damian got on his stomach, then, pressing his face into the pillow, focusing hard on his imagination. He inserted a third finger, grateful for his acrobatic abilities.

Oh, god,_ Dick's _acrobatic abilities...

He could probably do any position. Hell, he'd make up _new _positions. Their flexible bodies together could come up with so much...find new, exciting ways to please each other, _all the time_.

"Be-Beddi yak bi tizi..." he snarled in his first language, voice muffled by the pillow.

Dick strained his ears and wondered what that meant: he had no idea how to speak any Arabic whatsoever. And he felt a little sad, then, once he realized.

His breath hitched when he hit his prostate, back arching in unison, eyes opening wide. He had only ever found that spot once or twice before, and he never got sick of it. And to imagine that it was Dick touching it, Dick giving him all this pleasure...

"N-_Neekni_...Fuck me..."

_If only._

Dick felt, with dismay, at the bulge in his shorts, and whimpered, feeling utterly horrible and _sick_. But he had to do _something_ about it, _right_?


End file.
